Martina
by Swamp Rat's Chere
Summary: a one shot about a mutant girl based losely on the song "Concrete Angel". Rated for dark themes and slight language


Authors Note: This story is based off the song "Concrete Angel"

Disclaimer: I own all the characters in this story actually. Cool

Martina shuffled her holey shoes through the snow. Her ungloved hand clenched

a crumbled paper bag with her name written on it with crayon. Her back ached

constantly beneath the old time dress she had rescued from the attic. She reached the

school about the same time as the bus. The other children, happy to see each other after a

long summer break, ran around screaming. No one flew to hug Martina, no one even

flashed her a smile.

The classroom remained unchanged. The desks were still too small to hold

Martina still. She leaned against the back of the desk and tears quickly flooded her eyes.

She blinked them away as the teacher walked into the room. Keeping her head down,

Martina longed for her mother's prescription painkillers to dull the ache of her back.

She tuned the teacher out, ignored the usual introductions, and sat leaning forward

against her desk all morning.

By the time lunch came, Martina could barely stop the tears of pain from falling.

She ran to the bathroom, her hair hiding her face. Locking herself in a stall she tore her

shirt off and ran her fingers over the forming lumps on the smooth skin of her back.

"What's happening to me?' she whispered continuing to trace her fingers over the bumps

until she could no longer stand the pain.

Martina couldn't figure out how she survived the first day of school, all she

remembered was the walk home. She flopped on her bed allowing the tears to once again

flow. Nobody else was home. Her father, whose name she didn't even know, had left

before her birth and her mother worked until late. Martina slowly cried herself to sleep.

"Wake up you lazy bitch!" Martina groaned slowly opening her eyes.

"Mom?" she mumbled stretching.

"No, I'm the Easter Bunny you ungrateful little freak. I take care of you for all

these years and now look at you!" Martina sat up slowly, still shaking off the last of

sleep's lingering hold. Her back no longer hurt. Turning her head, she saw a pair of tiny

white wings sticking out of her skin.

"What?" she whispered softly staring at the wings in confusion.

"You're a mutant, wings just like your father's. I'm glad he's dead!" Martina

gasped slightly. Until now her mother had never mentioned her father.

"It's not my fault," she sobbed as her mother grabbed her hair and yanked her from the bed.

"How dare you!" she screamed shoving Martina in the attic. "Stay there. I'll

find a way to fix this." Out of shock, Martina started trembling as her eyes darted

around the dark attic. Taking a few deep breaths she could feel her heartbeat slow

slightly.

"I have wings. My father had wings," she repeated fingering her wings. Each

one was only about the size of her hand, not big enough for flight yet. Martina sat in the

attic for hours periodically trying to open the locked door. "Hello, Mom?" she cried out.

Not hearing an answer she pressed her ear to the floor. The only sounds were the house

creaking as the dark night fell. Martina cried loudly in her sleep, although people could

hear her, no one dared get involved.

Finally at daybreak, Martina woke, spiders crawling on her skin. Her screams

echoed through the tiny attic. Once again, she called for her mother. Half an hour later,

she knew she was now on her own. The only light in the room came from a tiny window.

Wiggling her body through the opening, Martina managed to climb onto the room. There

were no trees surrounding the house, only flat land, leaving Martina trapped. Tears stung

her eyes realizing she was completely abandoned. Sitting on the roof, Martina watched

the dark clouds roll in from the East. The wind yanked at her small wings as the

lightning flashed lighting up the sky.

The smell of smoke alerted Martina that lightning had struck the house. Looking

around desperately she found no way off the room other than spreading her tiny wings

and hoping to fly. At first the wind caught her, carrying her, but her new wings crumbled

under her weight and slowly she crashed to the Earth.

Martina opened her eyes. The clouds surrounded her, her wings glowed of light.

Looking down, she saw people dressed in black standing around an angel statue.

"Martina," a voice called softly. Martina looked up. A man stood silhouetted by

the sun. His wings cast him into shadow.

"Daddy?" she whispered.

"Yes, my little girl. It's time to come home." Martina glanced once more at the

stone angel and followed her father into the blinding light.


End file.
